Youthful waking at the dawn of the year
a garden is glorified in the morn
even the chilly air is so dear!
Because my haven garden is born.

In the warmth of the spring the flowers bloom
and the trees move their boughs
to face the sun whose light cannot doom
the sunflowers, who are its foes!

Come summer, come heat,
I welcome the late red roses
their crimson petals cannot be beat
neither can their sweet smell, that I inhale in doses.

And then the parched Earth looks up to rain
the grass drinks the water like wine
while I try not to feign
at the sight of the blooming columbines!

Soon the trees have lost every leaf
to the triumph of the wilted lawn
although I try hard, it gives me grief
to see that gone is the dawn!

And the winter sets in again, but at dusk
in an old aged sleep lies my garden in twilight
I envelope myself in the earthiness of the musk
as I try to hide my sorrow, and my plight.

If I had to come to a decision
between this and the Garden of Eden,
I could say this with precision:
it is here that my heart has been welded in.